As Sirens Call to Sailors
by funnygirl00
Summary: Lady Tamera Trenowyth, flees from an abusive father to find herself a guest of the Holmes estate. An accident, forces her to remain in the Holmes' care, to her misfortune, especially when she fights the attraction to their youngest son, Sherlock. But as sirens call to sailors, the urge to resist the call of forbidden danger is too enticing to resist.
1. 1: Sweet liberty

**Ahh, as you can see, I've got another Sherlock/Tammy story in the works. Since, 'if you asked me to' do so well, I had to do another. This time, it's set in the Tudor time period and yes, I was somewhat inspired by Benedict's performance in the other Boleyn girl. The title, was inspired by the song 'Sirens' from the 'Jane Eyre' musical by James Barbour. Great song, I heartily suggest listening to it, to give you somewhat of an idea of what kind of drama we're heading for.**

****And as always, I own nothing except for Tammy.****

**Also, my grandfather passed away a few days ago. I've been distracted, as you can imagine, and maybe, this story will be a way of helping me collect my thoughts together. Don't expect my updates to be so quick, but, give me some time and this story will progress.**

* * *

Chapter one: Sweet Liberty

* * *

"You worthless, piece of sewage from the gutter!"

I close my eyes as I listen to my father degrade my mother. She wasn't crying yet, but it was only a matter of time. Crack! The sound of flesh being slapped, a thud and a grunt informed me that my father had hit her hard enough to knock her to the ground. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the locked door. I wanted to help her, but as I was locked in my room. My mother began crying and pleading for him to stop. I heard cloth tearing and my mother let out a sharp cry of pain. I kicked the door as tears streamed down my cheeks, frustration pulsating through me. I felt so weak, so useless, angry and guilty. It was my fault that my father was abusing my mother.

"You strumpet!" My mother let out another shuddering cry of pain. "You've…turned our daughter…into an ungrateful whore."

I stomped over to the window and flung it open. The chilly, wintery air rang through my room, whipping my hair back. I inhaled the sharp, chilled air, wishing with each breath I drew would cause my death.

I'd turned down Lord Roger Michelin's offer of marriage. My father had beaten me in front of Roger, demanding I change my mind, but I'd refused. He then dragged me to my room, by my hair and locked me inside. Now, he was taking out his anger on my mother and her already broken body.

As I inhaled the freezing cold air, the desire to die filled me. I hated it when this feeling came upon me, dying was one thing, but wishing for it was a sinful thing. Especially when I didn't know, what life held yet for me. As I listened to my mother's groans in the background, a strong desire suddenly filled my broken body.

I'd leave this house, I'd run away, leave. I don't know what father would do to mother, but, maybe if I weren't around, he wouldn't have a reason to come and torture her. I also realized that if I were gone, my father would put every single effort into trying to find me, leaving my mother alone for however long I was gone. I was a stubborn woman, foolish maybe, but I couldn't and wouldn't submit to my father's will and whims. Sinful, maybe, but I cannot do what he wishes when my heart isn't in it. I cannot marry any ancient, crude, lustful man just because his purse strings are big enough to suit my father.

I made my decision, it was as if my soul had been lit on fire and I decided to follow my heart and head. I grabbed two bags from under my bed and began to put undergarments and essentials in it. I had some money and fortunately, plenty of jewelry, which I could sell. My other valise, I put my dresses in. my father loved to waste money on my apparel, so these dresses would cost me a pretty fortune, I grabbed my warmest cloak, tied it on myself and chucked the bags out of the window, they landed on the snow with a thud.

I haphazardly gripped the curtain, lowered it out of the window and began to shimmy down it. Naturally, I couldn't reach the ground completely; I fell the last few feet, fortunately, onto a snow-filled bush. I didn't waste time grabbing my bags and glancing around. Nobody had seen me and nobody appeared to have heard my rather noisy descent. My father had ordered all windows closed and sealed during the winter, so no one could see me from inside. Grabbing my bags, I tramped through the snow towards the gate. I pushed through and then headed for the street, fortunately for me, there was a coach passing by at that moment and the man inside insisted on giving me a lift. Ordinarily, I was skeptical about help from strangers, but it served to get me from the house quickly.

It turned out to be fortuitous, the man immediately like the amber bracelet I was wearing and I asked him to name a price. He gave me fifty pounds, less than my bracelet was worth, but I thought it was a perfect price for me. Now, I could buy a ticket on the next coach out of here without having to spend my money.

The fifty pounds would allow me to get within 20 miles of London. Since, I had no relatives that far out, I decided to go there. It was a big city and it would be possible for me to find some sort of occupation. I wasn't sure what I was capable of doing, maybe I could find work as a seamstress or a ladies maid. I probably wasn't suited to even those little tasks, but, I'd been waited on and I was certain of how a lady's maid should act and I had a very good hand.

The coach dropped me off in the middle of nowhere. While it was cold that day, at least the sun was shining down on me. However, I could tell that I only had a matter of hours before the sunset. It was a two-mile walk to the nearest town, so I better get walking.

Drawing my hood over my head, I began walking the snowy and muddy path. My shoes were immediately soaked, as they weren't appropriate for this type of travel. However, all of my shoes were of the same inferior quality. Perfect for dancing, not trekking through the mud.

I inhaled and began singing a song that I'd heard from a group of minstrels. _It's 7:00 in the morning; I lift my eyes to autumn skies. I look up to the graveyards, a silhouetted swallow fly. He flies to distant countries; I lose him just behind a cloud. I long to be that swallow and go where I am not allowed! Over mountain, over oceans, heaven take me away! For I long for my liberty, for sweet liberty I pray!_

My song ends rather abruptly as my ears become aware of something in the forest to my left. I stopped singing and stand there. I can hear nothing except for the crackling of branches. I watch and I can see branches moving, but I can spot nobody. I am now realizing the folly of my actions. I am in the middle of nowhere, in the perfect spot to be ambushed and I have no earthly way to defend myself! I didn't even think of grabbing a dagger before leaving!

In my apprehension, I grabbed a handful of snow and wadded it into a snowball. I threw it at a tree, hoping to draw whatever was in the bushes attention towards it. However, I had a terrible aim, I missed the tree completely and my snowball went towards the rustling leaves. As I picked up another handful of snow, I heard a man shout. "OW!" All my fears dissipated as I realized that I had hit some unsuspecting person, probably upside the head with a snowball!

A man came stomping out of the woods; his expression was one of annoyance. I couldn't tell much of his physic, as he was bundled up. However, his face was extremely angular and his cheekbones were prominently sharp.

"Who are you?" He demanded. "And why are you throwing snowballs at me?"

Now, I was indignant. He thought I did it on purpose! I didn't even see him! "My name is Lady Tamara Trenowyth."

"Interesting name," he states. "you're named after the goddess of river and streams. Your name, though British, in Hebrew means 'date palm."

I roll my eyes as I grab my cases. "I'm glad you approve of my name, I believe I'll keep it." I held his gaze as I prepared to walk away. "As to what I was doing, I thought that you were an animal of sorts. Forgive me for succumbing the urge to find myself some sort of protection."

His brow arched in curiosity. "Granted." I roll my eyes and begin to walk away, only to find that he has begun to walk beside me. "You're not from around here."

"No, I'm not. Who are you anyway?" The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

His brow arched in curiosity, as if he were surprised that I didn't know him. He crossed his arms across his chest. "Sherlock Holmes."

I arch a brow. "And? Is that supposed to mean something?" Now, he looked amused at my indignation. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"You should be." He smirked, those blue, gold and green eyes of his danced in amusement.

"Well, I'm not! So, forgive me for not falling in a heap at your feet!"

He chuckled darkly as he surveyed me. "So, what are you running away from?" I open my mouth to protest, but he holds his hand up. "Don't even bother lying to me. You're obviously a lady of very high rank, your clothes, jewels and hair attest to that fact. You've got only two pieces of baggage, unusual, unless you were robbed. Though, judging by the firm tilt of your head and your temper, any thief would be idiotic to try to rob you."

"Thank you. Now, excuse me," I stated. "I've got two miles to walk to the nearest town."

He shook his head. "You'll never make it. There's a storm coming up, you don't have appropriate attire nor the shoes, you'd be found dead tomorrow."

"Then I better get moving and maybe I can beat the storm."

He exhaled in irritation and grabbed my bags from my hands. "Come."

I glowered at him and reached for my bags. "No!"

"You can stay at my parent's house, it's just through the woods." He began walking briskly through the woods. "Mother will be delighted to have you."

"Listen, Mr. Holmes, I appreciate the concern, but my life is none of your concern."

"Besides, I happen to know for a fact," he states as he glowers down at me. "that your father is probably ten minutes behind you." Now, he had my full attention. "You'll be granted safety at our house. I doubt any tavern or inn will offer you the same guarantee."

He continued walking and I followed behind him. My heart was pounding so badly in my chest that I couldn't form another word to voice an objection of him and his actions. I was in a strange place, with a strange man, yet, as I followed him through the woods, I felt safe for an unusual reason.


	2. 2: The Holmes family

Chapter two: The Holmes family

* * *

I stared up at the beautiful, brick and light brown wood residence. It had the word 'home' pasted all over it. I could smell the cedar firewood burning in the hearth and I could see everyone bustling around inside, everyone looked happy, to my eye at least. I smiled and paused as I admired this house. Even in the snow, it was a very beautiful place, surrounded by pine trees and a bridge over a somewhat large river. I can only imagine what it must look like in the summer.

"Are you coming or what?" Sherlock said abruptly, shifting one of my bags under his arm. He refused to carry both, still, I wasn't surprised. "It's cold outside."

"Well, you were the one tramping around in the snow earlier!" I reminded him as I tightened my grip on the case and began to follow him into the house. "Even then, you were collecting plants. Like, who in their right mind does things like that?"

"Poisonous ones." He explained without looking back at me as he opened the door to his house. He walked in without granting me the right to enter first. "And then I get hit with a snowball in the head, for minding my own business."

"Well, you made my life your business," I said as I set down my suitcase and closed the door behind me. I rubbed my arms vigorously. "when you decided to force me to return here."

"And you should be grateful."

"My mother always told me not to bite the hand that feeds me." I said calmly. "The fact that I haven't bitten yours, clearly states that I am showing my gratefulness."

He leans forward and studies me closely. I lean forward, until we're almost nose-to-nose, and match his probing expression. "I didn't know," we both turned around to see another man, probably Sherlock's brother, standing there watching us with a smug look on his face. "that when I rounded this corner I'd be interrupting something rather intimate."

Sherlock made a face at his brother as he shrugged out of his coat. "She's just a stray cat Mycroft. Nothing more, nothing less."

Mycroft crosses his arms over his chest and smiles tightly at his brother. "Haven't you heard what happens to stray cats when they're found?" Sherlock doesn't even blink. "Typically, they never leave. So, I'd say you're stuck with her."

I shook my head. "I'm only staying for the night."

"Sherlock?" all three of our heads turned towards the sound of footsteps. And older woman in deep green dress and her gray hair pinned up elegantly rounded the corner. She stopped and looked at us, me in particular. She smiled as she stepped towards me. "Hello. Who is this? I wasn't aware you were bringing home a lady for me to meet Sherlock."

"I'm his stray cat." I spat out somewhat sarcastically. I bit my lip and closed my eyes in embarrassment. "Sorry, both of them have been calling me that. It just popped out and I apologize. My name is Tamera."

She laughed and hugged me. "Don't be. I know exactly how frustrating my boys can be, so don't be too concerned. You'll find that we speak quite plainly around here." She took a hold of my arm and guided me into the parlor. "So, how did you two meet?"

"I hit Sherlock in the head with a snowball." Her brows rose in surprise. "I was walking towards the nearest inn and he startled me." Sherlock let out a rude snort. "The only thing I had to defend myself was the snow at hand."

She smiles brightly. "Good! You're a resourceful and intelligent girl. And don't worry about Sherlock's head; it's always been exceptionally hard."

Sherlock exhaled and pulled off his coat. I could help but stare at him in amazement. His house, family and manners testified that they were a very wealthy family. He, however, was dressed in the simple clothes of a working man. "Thank you for your concern mother." He grumped. "Nice to know if she ever beats me to death that you had the courtesy to feed a girl whose intellect wasn't enough to know that the human head and brain are very fragile."

I glower at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"That has yet to be determined."

"It was only one snowball and I couldn't even see you. Be glad I wasn't close."

"If you were going to get kicked by a horse, pray you're standing close to it; it hasn't had time yet to gather up enough speed."

"Sherlock!" His mother said sharply. "Behave yourself. Now, take Tamera upstairs to the library. There's a fire going there and it'll be much more comfortable for her to talk."

Sherlock nodded and grumpily walked away and I followed him. Mrs. Holmes followed us, but she got stopped by one of the servants. Sherlock and I were halfway up the stairs when this huge Irish setter came running straight at me. "Redbeard!" Sherlock shouted sharply. The dog promptly ignored him and jumped right on me. The creature was huge and next thing I knew, I'd lost my balance and I was falling backwards down the staircase!

The whole household erupted into pandemonium as I landed in a crumble heap on the ground. Sherlock and Mycroft were shouting about Redbeard while Mrs. Holmes hurried to examine me. I struggled to sit up, but a sharp pain in my side caused me to cry out and lie back on the ground.

"Sherlock! Mycroft!" She shouted. "Both of you stop it this instance! Sherlock, go fetch the doctor, I think she's broken a rib." My eyes widened in alarm. "Mycroft put Redbeard away and help me get her upstairs to bed where the doctor can examine her better!"

"I don't think that-

"Stop arguing with your mother boys!" A voice full of authority came from the top of the stairs. I looked up to see an older man, Mr. Holmes, I'm assuming, grab both of them by the collar and give them a shove. Both hurried down the stairs immediately. "As long as you live under my roof, you'll do as she says! Now move!"

Mycroft mumbled in irritation. "Honestly. So ridiculous."

For a moment, I thought Sherlock was going to report his brother's disrespect, and then I could tell he thought better of it. Mr. Holmes knelt over me as he looked to his wife. "Now, what do you want me to do?"

"You and Mycroft can carry her up the stairs and follow me." I felt as if I were outside my body watching this whole thing going n around me. Mrs. Holmes fussed over every single step that Mycroft and Mr. Holmes carried me up. I reached over to grip my aching side, to find that I couldn't move my arm without feeling pain. Mrs. Holmes noticed my grimace, though I tried hard to hide it. "And her arm as well, mind it!"

After years of watching my mother being subjected to my father's cruelty, it was a surprise to see Mr. Holmes tolerate his wife's rather fiery tongue in such silence. I hope he wasn't going to punish her later for speaking so to him.

"Where are we putting her dear?" his tone, I searched for a single note of malice in his voice, but heard nothing unsettling.

"May I suggest," Mycroft said. "the guest bedroom next to Sherlock?" I glowered at him. "He knows her better than anyone else."

"That would be improper Mycroft!" she said, before hesitating. "However, there is a long corridor between them, so, it's not that bad an idea." She turned to me. "If, you've no objections."

I wasn't sure what to answer to that statement. However, I was in their debt and I wasn't going to quibble over their decisions. "I'm," why did my voice sound so weak? "grateful, for your hospitality."

Mrs. Holmes leaned forward. "Sherlock better hurry up with John, she does not look well at all." She pushed the bedroom door open and I found myself in a beautiful green, bedroom. The room was far better than my own at home and I found it unusual that I had such good fortune, even though I'd probably broken my arm and rib. Mrs. Holmes pulled back the covers and the men set me down. "Gently!" She ordered. "Mycroft, build up a fire, now." She turned to her husband. "You, have Janine fetch more blankets and ask her to have Mrs. Hudson prepare some tea. And ask Mary to have me help her get Tamera out of her clothes."

"Yes." Mr. Holmes walked dutifully out of the room without looking back at her.

She turned to me. "Now, you close your eyes and try to relax." The moment those words left her mouth, I lapsed into either unconsciousness or a deep sleep. It was one or the other, for I didn't remember what happened next except for dark, calming blackness.


	3. 3: Safe

Chapter three: Safe

* * *

I didn't think I'd survive the humiliation of a man binding my waist and rib, but I did. Doctor John Watson was different from all the other doctors. He acted in a reserved manner upon examining me. All the other doctors I had seemed delighted upon viewing a woman's flesh. He however, explained to me everything that was wrong with me and tried to keep me covered up as modestly as possible. After completing the examination, he gave me a draught for the pain before opening the door to let in the Holmes family.

Sherlock was the first to speak. "How is she?"

"she'll be fine in time. A broken rib and she fractured her arm. I'm afraid she's going to be here for a while."

I shook my head. "No! I cannot stay here!"

"Stuff and nonsense Tamera," Mrs. Holmes said firmly. "you are in no condition to travel anywhere."

"I can't stay here!"

"She's being chased." Sherlock supplied helpfully, causing the blood to drain from my face at his words. "She grabbed whatever she could from her house, jumped on the first coach that took her as far as she could safely afford, depositing out here."

"Shut up." I spit out at him as tears fill my eyes. "You have no right to say such things. I wanted to go to the inn! You forced me to come here and it was your animal that put me in this situation."

"She's right, Sherlock, get out now." His mother ordered. "Everyone, out. I want to talk with Tamera for a while in private." Everyone shuffled out of the room obediently as Mrs. Holmes approached me. She fussed with the sheets and the pillows behind me before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Now," she glanced around the room. "since we're alone, why don't you tell me what happened to your face? I could see someone had hit you. Who was it?"

I bit my lip and admitted. "My father hit me."

"Why did he hit you?"

"Because…I'd turned down James Moriarty's offer of marriage and I solemnly refused to marry him."

"Good!" Mrs. Holmes stated as she folded her hands together. "Sir James has always been an unsavory character. Drives Sherlock up the wall, the two of them are always looking for ways to eliminate each other."

My eyes widened. "Sherlock knows him?"

"Yes. The two idiots refer to each other as 'enemies' when they aren't teasing each other or coming up with new dreadful experiments. But don't worry, you're safe here."

"If my father finds me-

"He will not take you away from here." I opened my mouth to explain that she had no control over my father. But, she held up a hand to silence me. "Now, Anne Boleyn's mother is a friend of mine. I will write to her about your situation and see if there's anything that Anne or the king can do to help you."

My mouth dropped open in astonishment. "You'd do that…for me?"

"Of course I would!" She laughed. "Tamera, it did my heart a lot of good to see you catch both of my son's off guard! Spunk like that deserves to thrive! So my husband tells me."

I bit my lip before asking. "Pardon me, but…does…Mr. Holmes always allow you to…address him like that?"

She frowned. "Like what?"

"Well, so…strong and forward."

She laughed merrily. "Trust me dear one, he loves it. He always was a bit on the shy side; God knows why he picked me. I had no dowry and I mistook him for a man of ill repute. But, I loved him and believe me; I was overjoyed when he asked me to marry me. People thought I'd married him for his wealth but he has a kind, gentle spirit and a generous soul. Besides," she smirked. "he loves my wild side." Her face sobered. "Why did you ask me that? Are your parents not happy together?"

I shake my head. "He hates her. I must have been conceived in rape, there is no way on earth that he loved her once in his life. If anything goes wrong, he hurts her, if I say something wrong; he hurts her, physically and verbally."

"And so you left…to avoid him and to be less of a burden to your mother?"

"That was part of the reason." I admitted. "However, I will admit for most part that I wanted to get out of that house before I killed myself and condemned myself to a life of hell."

My words didn't even shock her. "Well, it's a good thing my son is such a nuisance, for I should hate for you to die so young." She smiled and patted my arm. "You rest now and you will be safe here. I give you my word." She stood up and headed towards the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've a letter to write."

* * *

_Later that night,_

* * *

A sharp jab in my rib caused me to awaken. The pain was sharp, but bearable. I forced myself to sit up and reach for the beautiful, sky blue robe that had been left on my bed for me. I stood up carefully and pulled it on. I padded barefoot towards the door, cradling my arm. I shouldn't be walking around like this, but it was late and ten to one, no one would be up. I wanted to read something. So, I padded my way to where the library was, or at least I'd hoped where it was. Fortunately, for me, the first door I tried was the library.

I exhaled as I surveyed the books; I hardly knew where to begin. There was a fire going fortunately, so I could sort of see. Spying a candle in a centerpiece on the table, I grabbed it and moved towards the fire. I let out a hiss as I knelt down to light the candle. The pain was sharp, but I could manage. After standing up, I began examining the shelves for something to read. After a few moments of searching, I spied a book of poetry by William Dunbar. I'd heard of his works, but had never been allowed to read any of his works. Excited, I moved to the nearest chair by the fireplace and sat down, fumbling to get the book open.

"Rather scandalous," I whipped around at the sound of Sherlock's voice, my hand clutching my ribs. "of you, to be walking around a strange house in a robe with your hair down." I self-consciously touched my hair as he stood up from the window sear, his simple, deep purple shirt unbuttoned slightly, giving me more of a view of a man's chest than I'd ever seen in my life. "However, it is an improvement as to how you had it so severely scraped back against your head earlier today."

I frowned. "Was that a compliment?"

"A statement is not necessarily a compliment," he said as he stared down at me. "I assure you, that was not one." He then looked at the book in my hand. "Wise choice. I gather you have an appreciation for the finer things in life."

"I do." I exhaled and leaned back into the chair. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, our neighbor murdered his wife and I just got the evidence. So, I'll be handing the evidence over to the authorities tomorrow. Hopefully they're not too stupid to dispute the evidence."

I blinked. "Interesting."

Now he frowned at me. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yes." I set the book of poetry and curled my feet up onto the chair. "Tell me about it."

He hesitated and studied me for a long moment before stepping towards me. "If you insist."

"I do."

* * *

**Sorry about the delay, but things have been hard and crazy on my end.**


	4. 4: Earning the right to feel

Chapter four: Earning the right to feel

* * *

I yawned and stretched, to let out a cry at the sharp pain I felt in my side and arm. "Good morning to you as well." My head whipped around to see Sherlock on the chair opposite me with his nose in a book. "You cry in your sleep, you know."

The blood drained out of my face. "What?"

He set the book aside and folded his arms. "I had no idea of the extent of your father's abuse until last night."

I sat up. "It's rather early in the morning for you to start talking to me like that."

"Your father has already posted a reward looking for you." my stomach swirled violently at that news. I gasped and sank back into the couch. "None of that, you'll be perfectly safe here."

"But," I stammered. "I can't…stay here forever."

"No." He drew the 'o' out before continuing in a dismissive tone. "But, I'm sure mother has several eligible young men in mind for you. And for the record, no, I'm not interested in you."

"You'd be the last man in the world I'd ever be prevailed upon to marry." I stated firmly, as I stood up and wobbled. "And I don't care if I were offered all the rice in china; it still wouldn't tempt me to accept your hand."

Sherlock leaned forward with a slight smile on his face. "Good, then we shall get along fine." the library door opened and Mycroft entered the room. His nose was somewhat up in the air as he eyed Sherlock and me with disdain. "What is it Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded. "I'm in no mood for this."

"Clearly Sherlock, but, you've a visitor." Sherlock snorted. "James Moriarty, he's looking for his lost fiancée." The blood froze in my veins while Sherlock straightened up in fascination. "He's wondering if you've seen her."

"Send him in." Sherlock said as he stood up and brushed his coat. "And ring for some tea."

I began shaking my head as Mycroft frowned. "Brother of mine, are you sure-

"Moriarty!" Sherlock shouted. "Get in here! I know you're lurking outside the door. Come on!"

I jumped up as James Moriarty entered the room. The man was disgusting to me. I wouldn't be surprised if his affections actually lay elsewhere. He had no regard for me and eyed me with a hunger that was unnatural.

His gaze flitted from me to Sherlock. "Well," he said drawing it out slowly. "this is an unexpected thing. My fiancée with my biggest rival."

"Tamera," Sherlock drawled. "do sit down and stop being ridiculous."

"Yeah," Moriarty said as he stepped towards me, I backed up away from him. he reached out and grabbed a hold of my unbroken arm and I struggled to pull free. "your father is worried sick!"

"I'll just bet he is!" I snapped as I struggled before kicking him in the leg. "Let me go!"

With that, Moriarty drew his hand back and struck me. I gasped and inhaled deeply against the sting of pain. "You," he bit out. "will learn to show the proper respect for me."

"Never!"

Sherlock stood up and pried Moriarty's hand off mine. "Please, don't be so dramatic Moriarty," Sherlock nudged me back to my seat on the couch before moving to sit opposite me. "sit down and try to behave civilized for once."

"Civilized?" Moriarty smirked as he rolled his eyes. "Isn't that what ordinary people do? Besides," he studied both of us carefully. "what is she doing down here, un chaperoned, with you in her nightclothes."

Heat crept up my cheeks and I gathered the robe around me much more closely. Just when I thought I couldn't be any more embarrassed, Sherlock proved that I was wrong. "Oh please!" Sherlock said with a dismissive snort. "You'd just love it if I'd been having sex with her on my parents couch!" I gasped and jumped up off the couch. "You should know that kind of thing doesn't interest me. But as near as I know, she's still virtuous and will remain so until her wedding day."

"If you'll," I gasped out. "excuse me gentlemen, I leave you to your business."

"Thank you," Sherlock said curtly. "please do."

"Get your things ready to return home with me." Moriarty stated without even bothering to look at me. "We're leaving soon."

"Ahh," Sherlock said he leaned forward. That's the fascinating thing though isn't it? you see, she's injured and can't be allowed to leave our home for a month. Furthermore, she's currently under our protection and she will be staying here as long as she desires. So I'm afraid," Sherlock sounded entirely too pleased about the whole thing. "Moriarty," he sneered. "you'll have to find yourself another bride, for she doesn't want you."

I hurried out of the room, something wonderful and grand swelling up in my chest at those words that Sherlock had dared to speak. No, I didn't love him, but I was certainly feeling a strong warmth and regard for him. if he were always like that, the way he'd been a few minutes ago, I could have loved him. however, he wasn't the kind of man one could love. He loved nobody, nor did he ask for love. He demanded admiration and respect; at this moment, he deserved it.

* * *

**Hi everyone, sorry about the delay. I had a complete mental breakdown on this story, so I started another to help stimulate this one. It's coming together slowly now, so, try to bear it out with me.**


	5. 5: Baskets and Basements

Chapter five: Baskets and Basements

* * *

A slamming door caused me to jump and turn towards the sound. My heart pounded in my chest as Moriarty stormed towards me, fury on his face. I nervously gripped the basket of holly in my hands, contemplating striking him upside the head.

He stopped close to me, peering down his nose at me. "I'll have you," he drawled out. "Tamera Trenowyth. You mark my words."

I gulped. "If, they were worth marking, I would." He glowered at me. "But, nothing you say will come to pass."

"You forget," he stated as he jabbed a finger in my face. "that what you want and desire will _never _come to pass."

For some reason, I felt bolder now. "I do have control over my life. I'd kill myself before I wed a poisonous viper like you."

He snorts and rolls his eyes as if my words were of little consequence. "Do you think I care that you want nothing from me?" My blood tingled at his dead voice. "If you think death will spare you from my torment, think again." he leaned close and whispered. "I will follow you to hell and make hell our own personal world."

"Oh for God's sake Moriarty," Sherlock stated loudly from an open window, his voice startled both of us. "leave the girl be and get on! If you don't get out of here, how else is the day allowed to progress? I'll see you tomorrow." He shot me a glower. "And you, get inside! Mother's been calling for you for the last thirty minutes."

I dipped my head and hurried in. Moriarty caught my arm and hissed lowly. "I know where you are. Your father…will make sure you come back to me."

"You don't own me." I hissed as I pulled my arm back, whimpering at the searing pain I felt.

"Oh, I do." I hurried up the stairs, feeling his eyes burning holes in my back. "Your father and I'll be back to collect you within the week."

I slammed the door and exhaled deeply as I tried to remain calm. I closed my eyes and rubbed my head. I couldn't stay here much longer, I had to get away. That much was clear. "There you are." I gasped and jumped at Mrs. Holmes's voice. She frowned and approached me. "What is it dear?"

I inhaled and stepped towards her, clutching the basket tightly. "It's nothing Mrs. Holmes." I cleared my throat. "I hate to be an imposition, but, might I get a ride to-

"No." She cut me off right away. "You're not going anywhere."

"Oh for God's sake mother," Sherlock drolled as he moved past her, his nose buried in a book. "if she wants to leave, let her. Moriarty is being even more troublesome than normal."

"Since when do you find it annoying that Moriarty is being troublesome?" She questioned. "I thought you'd find it thrilling." He grunted and huffed off, muttering something under his breath. I couldn't resist smiling at his little attitude. "You like him." Mrs. Holmes words caused my mouth to drop open in shock. I began to splutter in amazement at her blatant words. "Don't even bother to deny it. He's trying to get rid of you and you're smiling at him."

"I-I-I," I couldn't think of a single word to say to defend myself. "he's…very funny."

"No, don't even try." She smiled and guided me towards the dining room. "I know the look. I wouldn't mind having you for a daughter-in-law."

"Mrs. Holmes," I blushed. "I'm flattered that you think so highly of me that you'd desire me in the family, but…I wish to marry for love. I don't care if the man be rich or poor but…I do wish that he love me in return."

She bobbed her head. "Indeed, that is puzzlement. Sherlock is very difficult man." she bit her lip and tilted her head to the side. "I shall have to get him to change his mind."

"No Mrs. Holmes, please. My father is coming here in a few days." She blinked. "Moriarty is fetching him, himself. So, it's imperative I leave soon."

She was quiet for a while. "Well," she said slowly. "it appears I have my work cut out for me." And with that, she walked away muttering to herself. I had no idea what she meant by that, but I had a bad feeling that it wasn't going to go well for Sherlock or I.

* * *

_The following morning,_

* * *

"FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Sherlock shouted as he gagged on his eggs. He reached for his water or at least, where his water glass should be and bellowed. "WATER!" Without even thinking, I handed him my glass of water, which he downed in a gulp. I then handed him my orange juice, which he finished off quickly. He inhaled and bobbed his head at me. "Thank you."

"No problem." I said in concern. "What happened?"

Sherlock threw his napkin down in his plate. "Mycroft!" He snapped. "I told you, if you ever put salt-

"Oh, for God's sake, Sherlock." Mycroft said drolly. "If you ever learn to engage your brain fully, you'll realize that I'm on the far end of the table. I couldn't have done anything to your food."

I glanced at his mother. As innocent as her face was, I thought I detected a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. I shot her a disapproving look before addressing Sherlock and Mycroft. "If the two of you are done, begging God's grace, might I suggest that you both enjoy your breakfast?" How could the two of them not see that the reason for Sherlock's 'bad luck' for the last two days was due to his mother's meddling? So much for being clever.

"Mine's been ruined." He stated as he jumped up from his seat and stalked out of the room. He paused only long enough to grab his coffee. "I'll have something later."

I bit my lip and frowned before turning back to my tea. I couldn't help feeling somewhat guilty for enjoying my simple breakfast of tea, eggs, bread and cheese. Sherlock always drank coffee, no matter what time of day it was. Coffee was rumored to cause impotency, so, he certainly wasn't planning to start a family. Why was I even thinking about such stupid things!

An hour or so later, I bumped into Mrs. Holmes carrying a basket. Her face lit up. "Oh, Tammy! Would you do me a favor please? Sherlock hasn't eaten yet and I was going to take him down some food. Could you spare the trip of going down those stairs?"

I nodded as I took the basket. "No problem."

"Oh, and watch out for the critters he's got running around down there." She stated casually. "I never know what he's got down there."

I nodded uneasily. "Alright." I gripped the basket tightly and moved towards the stairs. I pushed the door open and ducked as a bag of sand fell right in front of me. I gaped at the huge sand bag right before me.

"I don't want to be disturbed Mycroft!" Sherlock snapped. "Be gone with you!"

"It's me." I waited a moment before continuing down the stairs, my eyes mindful of more traps.

"Wait a minute, don't move." Sherlock said as he hurried forward, pulling on a few ropes, suggesting he'd prepared more bobby traps for his brother in case he dared to venture down here. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you breakfast." At his skeptical look. "I'm positive Mycroft didn't lay a hand on it."

"That remains to be seen." He offered me his hand and guided me, with several tugs, down the stairs. He then took the basket and bobbed his head. "Thanks." I nodded and looked around the basement. He had bottles of all sorts around. I ventured towards them and picked one up and smelled it. It smelled terrible. "You can leave now."

"What are you doing down here?" I asked as I noticed what appeared to be a covered body on the table.

"It's an experiment." He said testily as I stepped towards the table. "Leave it."

"No." I reached for the cloth and pulled it back just a bit. Sure enough, it was a dead man on the table. I didn't go past the face, for the sight of death caught my heart in my chest for a moment. I stared at the corpse in stunned silence before Sherlock yanked the cloth away from me.

"Will, you get out of here?"

"What are you doing?" I questioned again.

"Look, I'm very busy and you're…

"Proving that a man murdered his wife yesterday and it somehow involves this corpse?" I asked, remembering stating that yesterday. He paused and frowned at me. "Am I right?"

"How'd you know that?"

"You said it yesterday."

"No, I didn't," his voice petered off. "yes, I did. And you're not freaking out?"

I rolled my eyes. "Should I be? Wouldn't that upset you Mr. Holmes and be absolutely ridiculous?"

"Correct assumption on both things." He stated as he studied me carefully before releasing me. "Right."

"So, can I stay," I couldn't believe I was actually asking this, but I was curious. "if I'm quiet?"

He shrugged and walked back to the table. "Suit yourself. Just don't start cleaning up anything or stuff like that." I nodded and bobbed my head at him. "And I don't like apples."

I looked up and neatly caught the one he tossed at me. "Neither do I." And I tossed it back at him, which he caught. "I don't want it." His brow arched curiously before dropping the apple into a container of something that began to sputter. I walked over and looked at it, to see the apple was dissolving. "Waste of food."

"So?"

"What is it?"

"Are you genuinely curious or just talking?"

I looked up. "Genuinely curious, now what is it?"

He arched a brow silently before stating. "A private mixture of my own concoction."

"Containing what?"

He shook his head before explaining everything inside of the mixture to me.

* * *

The minutes slipped into hours, the authorities came and went and before I realized it, dinner was served! Sherlock and I came upstairs, talking rather excitedly to each other.

"You know," he said. "you're rather good at this, for a girl."

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly Sherlock. Women aren't dumb."

"Well, you Tamera clearly aren't like most women. Who knew there was actually a brain inside that head of yours!" I rolled my eyes. "I mean, I know you have one."

"Otherwise my body wouldn't function." I remind him.

"However, most women aren't interested in stuff like this, my own mother included." He explained. "I can't think of another woman who's displayed such intelligence about such things."

"Well, I must have a side of me that curious about such things. I've always loved mysteries and science."

I came into the dining room and stopped short, causing Sherlock to ram into me. "Tammy, for God's sake." Then, he saw the same thing I did and he groaned. "Oh, good grief. Why does something dramatic have to happen before dinner?"

"Oh, I don't know Sherlock," Moriarty drawled as he stepped forward with my father beside him. "maybe it's because one always needs something entertaining before sitting down to such a droll meal."

My father stepped forward, his eyes dark. "I've come for what's mine."

* * *

**I'm sorry everyone about the delay. I normally never leave a story absent for almost a year. However, I've been in a bit of a haze for a while, but I'm finding my inspiration again.**


	6. 6: Escalating the situation

Chapter six: Escalating the situation

* * *

My father strode towards me, rage on his face. "Tamara Trenowyth, what's gotten into you?" I stepped back instinctively, smacking into Sherlock. I knew that look on his face well; he was going to hit me. I went around Sherlock, backing my way towards the exit in case I had to run. "You ungrateful girl!"

I didn't stick around any longer. I bolted. I headed straight for the door and ran out into the snow without even stopping for my coat. I could hear my father cursing as he ran after me. I ran without even risking a glance back. I fled wildly as if a tiger was pursuing me instead of my father. However, my skirts and broken arm were a hindrance to me and I could feel someone gaining on me from behind. I didn't dare to even look back behind me for fear of my freedom slipping from my grasp if I turned.

I instantly started screaming and crying when I felt arms go around my waist. I didn't want to lose my freedom after finding it so soon! "Tammy! Stop it!" I was spun around to Sherlock was holding me. "It's alright."

I began shaking my head as I tried to break free from his grip. "I won't go back. Let me go!" I pleaded. "I can't go back there! I can't!"

"Tammy," he said in an out of fashion, calm and controlled voice, almost soothing to the ear. "I give you my word that you won't go back to him."

Ordinarily, I wouldn't be swayed by words, but something in his face swayed me for a moment. "Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"Swear it!" I begged. "And if you can't, then please, supply me with a poison that will stop me dead in my tracks. I can't marry Moriarty."

"Yes, yes, I swear it." He wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me back towards the house where the others were approaching. "Now, let's get you back inside, you're shivering."

"Astute observation." I chattered out as I stepped over a log that I didn't remember jumping over. "You're not wearing a coat."

"I decided to catch you first then warm up later. Besides, the other's stopped to get their coats. Left to their own devices," Sherlock's arms circled under my legs and he lifted me up into his arms. "you'd have been halfway to France by now."

"That was the idea." I frowned. "What are you doing?"

"You're soaked to the skin." He pointed out as he adjusted his grip. "You'll freeze by the time we get to the house at your pace."

"I really think you should let me go." In spite of feeling secure, I didn't want to endure everyone's opinions on how he was embracing me.

"Well," he looked up at me his voice lowered. "I won't let you go. I won't drop you."

Those words caused my heart to flutter in my chest. "Well," I bit my lip and attempted to say in a casual voice. "you better not."

He studied me for a moment before muttering, "Damn you." under his breath at me. I was confused by this as he continued making his way through the snow back to the crowd. I threw an arm around his shoulder for more support. Sherlock offered no protests as we approached Moriarty, my father, Mycroft and Mr. Holmes. I tensed slightly at the look on my father's face, but I felt secure in Sherlock's arms.

Moriarty approached and reached for me, but Sherlock steered me clear from his oily touch. "Out of the way Moriarty, she's freezing."

"If you'll just hand her over," my father snapped. "and we'll be on our way."

Sherlock didn't even turn a hair. "I'm not letting you anywhere near her."

My father's face went so red I thought it was about to explode. "How dare you!"

"Look," Mr. Holmes reasoned. "it's cold out here. Your daughter has an injury, neither she or my son have on a coat, we need to discuss this inside."

"Thank you father." Sherlock said as he continued towards the house without even pausing for a second to converse properly with them.

"No," my father snapped as he reached roughly for me. "give her to me."

I moved my hand from Sherlock's neck, avoiding my father. My father grabbed Sherlock's shoulder and jerked him around. Sherlock spun around and leveled him with a glare. "Touch me again … and I'll bury you someplace where the wolves can't even find you!"

My father's mouth sagged open in shock. "He'd do that to." Moriarty said with a straight face. "However, I'd have to find you…and then he'd have to answer to the authorities."

"Grow up Moriarty," Sherlock stated. "I am better… than you and you know that fact."

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Holmes shouted from her place on the steps. "Get her inside! She must be freezing! And you forget your coat as well! honestly!"

"Mother!" He snapped before biting out. "Not in front of company."

"Library now." She threw a blanket around the two of us. "There's a fire going and cook is getting some tea ready." She gripped my hand and fell along step of us. "You're going to be alright Tamera."

"Don't fret mother." He stated. "Tammy's a lot sturdier than she looks."

Moriarty's eyes narrowed. "Tammy? You've not taken to giving her names like a dog have you?"

Sherlock chose to ignore that question as Mrs. Holmes opened the door, revealing a warm fire. "Couch Sherlock." He bobbed his head and settled me onto the couch. I inhaled and rubbed my arms as Mrs. Holmes reached for a blanket. "Now, can we please settle this like civilized adults?"

"That's asking a bit much mother," Sherlock stated as he flipped my skirt up to my knees causing me to jump. "as they're a bit ignorant."

"Have you no shame?" my father shouted as Sherlock pulled off my shoes and tossed them to the side, one landing dangerously near the fireplace. "Handling my daughter in such a fashion."

"Look Sherlock," Moriarty stated. "get your hands off my prize. You shouldn't handle her in such a way…she's mine, not yours."

"Sherlock," Mrs. Holmes was stunned as well. Sherlock began pulling at the ribbons that held my stockings up. "he's right, you really shouldn't."

Sherlock didn't even look up at me. "Nothing I haven't seen before." I inhaled as he tugged my knee length stocking's down. I was outraged, yet no words made their way to my lips. He proceeded to rub my frozen foot. "Besides, I think she'd prefer to keep her feet intact."

"Your damaging her reputation."

"Well frankly," he glowered at Moriarty. "it's your fault she's in this position. a girl says no and you have force her to wed you? really," his eyes narrowed mischievously. "that's quite pathetic if you think about it. weren't any of your trollops good enough? after all, they really had no problem throwing themselves at you."

"Sherlock," his father snapped. "enough, such things are better left unsaid, especially in the company of ladies."

"The truth is always best to be known." Sherlock stated firmly. "Regardless of who's in the room."

"Oh, I see it now." Moriarty snarled before shouting at Sherlock. "You're in love with her!"

The blood drained from my face and I looked to Sherlock, begging for a defense. However, he said nothing to me, nor did he protest. His silence caused my face to warm at the implication he was making by not saying anything to Moriarty. Sherlock took the blanket from Mary and began tucking it around my waist without saying a word.

"Sherlock," his father said slowly. "you have to answer that."

"I don't have to answer anything he says." Sherlock said as he carefully rearranged the blanket around my hands. "His opinion matters very little to me."

"I shall have this matter taken up with the king!" My father shouted. "A betrothal arrangement has been made. You cannot interfere in matters like this."

"As far as I'm concerned, that marital arrangement is between you and Moriarty." Sherlock stood up and glanced down at me. "Did you sign anything?" I mutely shook my head. "There you have it. she hasn't pledged herself in any way, so I suggest that you take Moriarty and get out of here."

"Now you listen here!" My father shouted. "I don't know what your intentions are with my daughter but-

Those were the last words I heard as Sherlock's lips swept over mine. this was my first kiss, so I stiffened, unsure how to react. Sherlock's hand closed over mine and I gripped his hand tightly before relaxing, allowing myself to become lost in his kiss. Slowly, I began moving my mouth against his, matching his movements. I should have felt awkward and embarrassed about having such a scene play out in front of both our parents and my betrothed.

Words may have been shouted at us, but I couldn't hear anything until Sherlock slowly pulled away from me. I opened my eyes, my heart pounded in my chest as Sherlock studied me with a penetrating gaze. I inhaled sharply as he smiled faintly and I returned it.

"Do you hear me Holmes?!" my father shouted.

"No." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "The door is that. I suggest you use it."

"I'll get you." Moriarty vowed. "You've done many things Sherlock, but this…is unforgivable. You stole my fiancée."

Sherlock stood up and tossed his head. "Oh, please. I didn't steal anything." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I took what willingly came to me."

"I'll get you." He swore. "I will burn…the _heart _out of you."

"Alright," Mrs. Holmes said. "this has been a long day. Tammy has clearly decided to stay here with Sherlock, so, you've come for nothing. Please leave our house now. These two need to talk."

Moriarty and my father stormed out with both of Sherlock's parents behind them. Mrs. Holmes was practically glowing and she smiled and waved at me before closing the library door. I stared at the door in shock for a moment, my mind desperate to grasp what had just happened, but it wasn't able to do so.

"You're crying."

"Who's crying?" I rolled my eyes and leaned forward, rubbing my arms as Sherlock Holmes studied me. "I guess I am." I used my thumb to wipe my eyes and exhaled. "More tears of relief than anything else. The situation is only temporary." His hand on my shoulders caused me to turn towards him in surprise. "What are you doing?" I asked stupidly. "I thought…that was an act." He offered me no answered and I began stammer. "Wasn't it?"

Sherlock studied me for a moment. After that kiss, I wasn't sure how to react. I looked down at the ground as Sherlock cleared his throat. "Look," he took my hands and exhaled. "why don't we get married?" my mouth dropped open ad I was sure I'd have a heart attack in a moment. "It's apparent you don't want to marry Moriarty," my blood began to turn cold. "and my mother is determined to throw us at each other. That stunt with the eggs and basket proves it." my mouth dropped open in embarrassment. He'd known all along!? "You and I are fairly compatible together, I don't think you'll be a hindrance to me or my work, it'll be quiet beneficial for the both of us."

"Mr. Holmes," I stated frostily. "as I told your mother, I intend to marry for love."

He shrugs. "We get along well enough. Love could follow."

I shake my head. "No. I won't do it."

"It's either me or Moriarty."

I smirk and add. "There's also the road outside this very house, which I assure you Mr. Holmes," I stood up. "I will be on as soon as I'm able."

He frowned. "I don't understand you."

"Noted." I exhaled. "And now, that you're done giving me the most abysmal proposal in the world, shall we resume our work back down in the basement?" and with that, I swept out of the room without glancing back at him. I'm sure if I'd glanced back at him, he would have surely seen the regret in my eyes due to my hasty actions. I should have at least contemplated entertaining his notion. No! I shook my head. I'd only marry for love and 'compatible' was not a substitute for love.

* * *

**Well, Sherlock's got his work cut out for him. She isn't going to make this easy on him.**

**Guest: Thank you very much! I'm still a little uneasy about this one, but everyone's encouragement is certainly making it flow much easier. Still a bit slow, but I'm finding my legs.**


	7. 7: Persuasion

Chapter Seven: Persuasion

* * *

"Good morning Tammy." Mrs. Holmes said as I entered the dining room the following morning. "How are you?"

"I'm well." Sherlock's eyes darted straight to me and he fixed his gaze upon me. So intense, that I feared I'd burst into flames. I cleared my throat. "I apologize for being late, my arm was troubling me."

"Can I get you anything for it?" Sherlock asked casually. "Medicine? John to examine it again? Marriage?"

The blood rushed to my face. He'd honestly said 'Marriage' like someone would say, "Pass me the salt." Honestly! I stepped towards my place…..next to him and didn't even blink. "No thank you, I'll be fine."

Sherlock glowered at me as I sat down. Why did I have to be seated opposite him? "Well Tammy," Mrs. Holmes says politely, studying Sherlock and I. this time, her eyes bore a trace of concern instead of mischief. "it's no trouble to send for John."

"I assure you, it's just a little stiff today. I'm fine."

"Good." Mycroft states stiffly. "Then you'll be on your way soon."

"MYCROFT!" Everyone shouts in unison.

"You mind your tongue boy," his father says with a firm glare. "especially in front of company."

"I'm sure he meant no offense." I state. "After all, I am staying temporarily. As much as I enjoy it here, I wouldn't want to impose much longer."

"You're not." Sherlock stated firmly.

My hand shook at the tone in his voice. Why did he always have to say thing that served to make me uneasy? "What will we be studying today?" I inquired with as calm a voice I could muster.

"Sex." Sherlock stated firmly.

Mycroft choked and sent his tea spewing across the pristine golden tablecloth. Mrs. Holmes dropped her tea in her lap and she jumped up, wiping frantically at her skirts. Mr. Holmes fork clattered to the floor. I'm not sure how I was able to maintain a straight face.

"SHERLOCK!" All three of them shouted in outraged.

"Sex? Fine then." I shrugged my shoulders as I prepared to take a sip of tea. "I've always been curious about solitary eruptive xanthogranuloma." Sherlock and everyone else at the table was stunned at my reaction. I smirked. "Calling it 'sex' for short was really brilliant of you."

"Thank you." Sherlock glowered darkly at me as I rearranged the napkin in my lap. "I didn't know you were familiar with acronyms."

I smiled at him. "I'm not an idiot Sherlock."

"No," he drew out slowly. "you're not." Even though that conversation was finished, I could tell it was far from over. He had more to say and for some reason, I was afraid to know what that was.

* * *

The moment I walked down the staircase into the basement, the hairs on the back of my neck started to stand up on end. I knew something was coming and once I reached the foot of the stairs, I instantly turned around to head back up the stairs, but Sherlock wasn't going to have any of that. he placed a hand on my waist and pushed me back into a bunch of shelves.

"Where do you think you're going?" he questioned.

"Upstairs." I stammered in shock. "I forgot-

"That's a lie. Well," he held up the key that belonged to the basement for me to view before putting it into his pocket. "you can forget about whatever it is you're thinking about. You're not coming out of here for a while anyway."

I stared at him. "Now, that makes no sense! What's the point?"

"Why won't you marry me?" he questioned. "I'd have thought I was preferable to Moriarty!"

"Neither are you are preferable to me because neither of you love me! are you really that stupid?" I demanded.

He glowered indignantly at me. "Of course not!"

"Honestly!" I shriek. "I don't understand all of this!"

"Oh for God's sake," he snapped impatiently before pulling me against his chest. "do shut up for a minute!"

I felt extremely light headed with his body this close to mine. "What are you doing?" I tried to sound firm, but I could feel myself morphing into a stuttering idiot. Why was he doing this? "Sherlock." the moment I said his name, he reached out and began to stroke my cheek. I began stuttering again as he leaned towards me. "Sherlock….this isn't proper."

"So….you don't give a damn."

He leaned forward, cupping my cheek with his hand before pulling me towards him. His thumb brushed my ear, while his fingers cupped my neck. I trembled as heat filled my face as he moved his face slowly closer towards mine. I knew his intent before it even happened; he was going to kiss me. I wasn't sure if I ready for this moment, but my heart was. The instant our lips touched for the first time, my arms fell limply at my sides. His lips paused for a second, before applying another kiss on my trembling lips. Blindly, I reached out for his other hand and grasped his hand tightly. I was drowning, drowning in these kisses and his warmth.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he pulled away from me and I stood there. neither of us could do anything but simply stare at each other. Our affection for each couldn't be denied. Nor would either of us would be able to deny either of us of the affection that we held for each other. However, this whole thing wasn't over yet, there was something I needed to know. I knew that one couldn't build a life alone on sexual attraction and chemistry.

I looked up at him, hesitating before asking. "Do you love me?"

He blinked and tilted his head to the side slightly. "Do you honestly need to hear those words?"

"I didn't ask you to say that you loved me." I pointed out to him. "I want to know if you love me. a simple 'yes' or no' is sufficient for me." I crossed my arms. "I won't marry a man who doesn't love me."

"Well, then, of course I do." My mouth dropped open in shock at his off-handed casual declaration. "Do you think I'd honestly propose to you out of duty?"

I bit my lip and admitted. "Possibly."

"Well, I'm not. So, how about it?"

Then, I had admitted my one last concern. "What about Moriarty?"

"Ohh," he groaned. "how can you think of him at a time like this?"

I giggled slightly before stating. "Well, are you sure you don't want me…well, I know that you two have been rivals. Are you sure you don't want me just to show up him up?"

"I assure you, that thought never crossed my mind." He wrapped his arms around my waist and I shifted at bit closer. "Sweet thought though now, since you brought it up." I laughed and rolled my eyes. He studied me closely, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "So, why don't we get married?"

I smiled as I placed my hands on his shoulders. "That I'll do, gladly, Mr. Holmes."

"Good for you."


End file.
